


Blue Veil

by HidingInAPillowFort



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Angst, But he is, Calypso - Freeform, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Implied Smut, Injury, Island - Freeform, Kisses, Love Confessions, M/M, Memory Loss, Trans Lance, depictions of blood, its not said
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 08:49:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15287940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HidingInAPillowFort/pseuds/HidingInAPillowFort
Summary: Lance has been cursed to live forever on an island surrounded by a storm. His only company a man named Keith who would wash up on shore then leave when he’s fallen in love with Lance, only to wash up again on shore again with no memory.





	Blue Veil

**Author's Note:**

> Don't hate me

<> >< ><><>< >< <> **  
**

Lance’s thumb digs into his temple, the slow soft circles had ended a decent amount of time ago, now all he could do was slide his thumb back and forth, stiff and painful. The corner of his eyes are still wet, damp with the ghost of tears. He purses his lips together, knitting his eyebrows. Lips under teeth.

The cool ocean laps at his feet, thin foam gathers around his toes. The sea fades to the stormy grey he’s oh-so used to. It had been a beautiful blue-green a couple of minutes ago, the waves smooth, bubbles an almost pink. But that didn’t last.

The sun was setting, pinks, blues, purples spread across the golden sky. It’s pretty.

His eyes suddenly fill with tears, catching his off guard, he sucks in a breath. The air is salty, something he’s used too, but it doesn’t stop it from stinging his throat, lungs, eyes.

He sinks into the sand, the small fine grains sliding into his cotton shorts. He tugs at the shawl wrapped losing around his neck and shoulders. He hadn’t bothered to change this morning, the pain that had settled in his chest was too familiar. To soon.

He’s felt this pain before, he’s felt it so many times. But he’s never ready.

Loss is something you can’t prepare for.

<> >< ><><>< >< <>

Keith tastes salt. Heavy on his tongue, overwhelming his senses. His nose fills with water, in a fruitless attempt to stop it, he sucks in a breath, salt water runs down his throat. He coughs. Hard. sand finds its way between his tightly shut eye lids. Everything burns.

His head digs its way out of the sandy bar, Keith rolls himself over, his chest burns. Sand fills the gaps between his muscles, joints, cuts, burns. Oh dear lord, it burns. A familiar metallic taste fills his mouth, dripping slowly. Keith tries to shut his mouth but his pounding jaw keeps him from such.

Fingers. He starts with his fingers. Slowly, but still in sharp movements, he wiggles his finger tips. Then is whole hand. Wrist--

Hands.

Hands on him.

Stranger.

His senses are filled with something new. Flowers. Grass. Fire. clay.  Fresh water. Fire. cotton. Fire. fire-firefirefire…

<> >< ><><>< >< <>

* * *

Lance stares Keith below him. Blood trickling into his mouth and down his neck. Welts, bruises and cuts cover his face, previous scars filling the gaps. His hair is cut at odd angles, fringe covers his face. Blood seeps through the torn cloth of his shirt. Cuts run up and down his legs.

He’s in bad shape.

Really bad shape.

Lance kneels down in the sand, wetting a cloth he carries with him with his own drinking water.  His pads at the mans face, wiping sand from his eyes, nose, mouth. Blood from the same places. There aren’t as many cuts as Lance originally thought, but they’re still bad. One, in particular, runs from his top lip to his left nostril, that will scar. Another threads through his hair line and across his eyebrow.

Lance sighs, he’ll have to carry him. He’s obviously in a state were he can barely breathe, let alone make the journey back to Lance’s sea cave.

Inspecting the wounds one more time, mostly to see where Lance could touch to be able to carry him. Lance gains the courage and strength to heave Keith over his shoulder, he struggles to walk but manages.

His cave isn’t too far, the was lucky enough to… crash (drift? land?) only a mile or so from the entrance. Unfortunately the amount of blood leaving his body increase with the constant pressure across his chest. Lance can feel is soaking into his own shirt, he curses.

“You better thank me later, ass,” he won’t die, he can’t.

Lance spots the cave a head, praising the gods, he picks up his pace. Keith coughs, sputtering for a breath, his body convulses.  

Fear isn’t something Lance feels much. He can die here so there’s no reason to be afraid of such things. But it starts in the pit of his stomach. A heavy feeling, bubbling and spreading a over. His head spins, shaking he tries to keep walking, but Keith’s convulsing and shivering stops him.

He lays him on the sand, the shaking continues. He adjusts his head, there must be water in his lungs. Or blood. Lance doesn’t waste time checking his pulse. None. and going straight into cpr.

“Ah ah ah, stayin alive~,” he mutters, a trick Keith had taught him years ago. He continues the song for as long as he can, checking the pulse again. Nothing. He tits back Keith’s head, parting the mouth. “ok.” and he pressing his lips to Keith’s. His lips are cold, but Lance blows air. He quickly goes back the pounding on his chest, there’s a snap of some sort, hopefully his rib.

Keith suddenly gasps for air, eyes shooting open, searching, searching- they close, his chest relaxes and he seems to be unconscious again.

Lance drags him to the cave, laying his down and gets to work on the wounds.

<> >< ><><>< >< <>

Keith hears music, soft and soothing. It swirls around his ears, he relaxes to it. It’s a harp, the soft plucking can be heard, faintly of course. He opens his eyes, greatful no for no sand in them.

It’s bright. Soft linens and clothes float with the ocean breeze, the salty air feels nice against his cut skin, unlike earlier. He can smell flowers, and what he guesses is clay. His mind flashes to earlier, someone on the beach. Someone… who helped. The faint memory of lips on his own swims through his mind.

He’s in a bed of sorts. It’s soft, like he’s on a cloud, holding up his sore limbs. A pillow supports his head-

“You’re awake?” the music stops, ripping him from his trance of relaxation. “Don’t more, okay.”

Keith’s voice crokes, words lost in his throat. He struggles to nod, hoping he gets the point across. “I’m here to help, please don’t struggle, it will only make it worse.” Keith barely hears the words, only the tone gets across. Soft, like everything else Keith can see and hear.

Hands.

Hands on him.

Keith sucks in a breath, the voice return, “shhh… try not to work yourself up.” his heart pounds in his chest, his eyes dart around, searching for the the voice.

“I need to work on your cuts… especially the one on your back and side. It’ll get infected,” The voice wavers, shifting away. Keith voice croaks, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He tries to nod.

Blue eyes. Suddenly. Hovering over him. The voice is a boy, keith has no clue how he didn’t figure that out. He has tanned skin, a color that comes from genetics. Chocolate hair, wispy, moving like waves. Blue eyes. Like diamonds. “Hey…” the boy sounds breathless, and keith feels breathless. “It’s going to hurt, I’m going to need you to drink this,” a wooden cup appears out of the corner of his eye.

Nod. that’s all he can do.

The hand that was pressing on his chest moves away, it’s added heat with it. The blue eyed boy helps him sit up. Well… sit is a stretch. Keith falls limply in the boys arms, his control over his own body slips from his grasp. His mouth bobs open. Gods, he’s probably drooling.

The boy hold the cup to his lips, “it’s alcoholic, it’s supposed to help with pain, okay?” Keith finds himself nodding without really thinking. The boy rocks Keith’s head back, easier to drink that way, he slowly drinks the liquid, he gags at is burns his throat, eyes water.

Blue eyes. So blue.

“Okay, I’m going to have to stitch up the wounds,” Keith coughs lightly, the boy lays him back down, on his side this time. “It’s going to hurt, I’m sorry.”

Keith squeezes his eyes shut, expecting the pain to be sudden, quick, extreme. It doesn’t come. He just lies there, head pressed into a pillow, drooling.

He lies there for a while, listening to the wind through the linen curtains, shells strung up as wind chimes hitting each other. Light footsteps around him.

<> >< ><><>< >< <>

Lance hates blood. The way it digs its way under his nails, between his fingers. He can’t remember the last time he had to clean a wound like this. Well… clean a wound, because he’s never had to do something like this. Keith had never been sent to his island has looked like this. Cut up, bleeding, hurt…

But it’s Keith. No matter how many times he washes up shore, he always comes back, all memories of Lance gone. And everytime he leaves it hurts. It hurts Lance like there is no tomorrow, like Keith won’t come back.  Because when you’re in love with someone, no matter if you know they’ll come back,it still hurts you to watch them go. And Lance has watched Keith leave him so many times.

Keith groans, shifting slightly, he’s probably too hurt to move much more. Lance wonders, briefly, how much he can feel. There’s not much else he can do to numb the pain, so he hopes for the best.

The worst wound he had needed to clean was only a couple of decapheebs ago, but the feeling of loss and pain is still there, it’s all part of the curse. He had washed up on the shore, middle of the night too. He had ended up too close to the sharp rocks that are only accessible by sea on high tide. Obviously the gods hadn’t meant for him to get hurt, but Lance still had to help him walk back to the cave, his leg bleeding.It wasn’t the worst cut he could have gotten, it obviously scared and kept him from walking for a while.

Keith suddenly, body shivering in Lance’s lap. “Hey, shhhh… try not to move,” Lance tugs lightly at the needle and thread, he had managed to sew up half the cut so far, the skin around it a purple. He groans again, breathe hissing through his teeth. “Do you need something to bite on?”Keith replies in another sharp gasp.

“Mmm-” He gaps for air. Lance quickly shifts off the bed, rushing to find a thick enough stick and some cloth. He returns after a minute of searching. He kneels next to the cot (Lance had been worried that his own bed would get stained by the blood), he presses the clothed stick at the Keith’s tightly pressed lips. His eyes swim with tears and fear. He’s obviously in lots of pain. Lance coes at him, stroking his cheek lightly until his opens his mouth to clamp down on the cloth.

“I’m sorry. I’m almost done,” Lance lies. “Okay?”

Keith closes his eyes harshly, a tear runs down his uneven face. Lance takes this as an “okay.”

He’s strong.He always has been. God’s blessing or not, he’s been through a lot.

Lance goes back to stitching up the open wound, sitting in front of him this time so he can occasionally stroke his cheek or ask how he's doing. He never says anything, but Lance understands anyways.

He cuts the string with the scissors he made for cutting hair, trying with what he knows as a french knot (Keith knows a few knots). “I’m done,” Lance removes the cloth from his mouth. “I need to wrap it, Okay? That means I have to get you to sit up,” he struggles to nod, but Lance doesn’t care whether he wants this or not.

Lance wraps his arms around the Keith’s waist, lifting his to rest on Lance’s shoulder. He blindly searches for the bandages, fumbling with the cloth. His arms are cautiously tossed over Lance’s shoulder, his fingers grip lightly to the shirt Lance is wearing. He wraps the bandage around the boys chest and waist, finishes in a matter of minutes.

“Okay, you can rest now.”

Keith sighs, sounding almost happy, in pain, but happy.

<> >< ><><>< >< <>

Keith wakes the next day. Lance had been out gathering fruit and when he returned he was sitting upright, staring straight at the door. Waiting.

“Oh!” Lance says, dropping his basket and running over. “You’re up! Ok okay! Let’s check your wounds and such,” he reaches out a hand, but Keith pulls away, looking terrified.

Keith doesn’t remember him. Of course he doesn’t. He never has. Probably never will. “I’m here to help, Keith.” That doesn’t help, Keith looks more scared, his mouth forming words with his lips, but nothing coming out.

Keith had never been this scared in the past, he had always been reluctant, but never stopped Lance from doing anything. “Do you want food or water?” Lance walks back to where he had dropped his baskets, picking up a few stray berries that had rolled when he dropped them. “I’m going to wash these. You should lie back down,” He walks over to the sink, pumping water into the basin then rinsing the berries thoroughly.

“Can I approach you? “ Lance holds out the wooden bowl of fruit, “I really am here to help.”

Keith nods, still obviously afraid of Lance. Lance cautiously walks over, handing the bowl to Keith, who in return eats them slowly without breaking eye contact with Lance. “If it would make it easier,” lance says hanging up his bloodied shirt to dry, “I can sit down so you can watch me.” Lance turns around, Keith still staring at him. “Are you not going to talk? Did I scare you or something?”

Keith puts down the bowl, only a few berries left. He shakily brings his hands to his neck. His fingertips graze his adam’s apple as he moves his hand to his mouth, covering it.

Lance is shocked, “can you not speak?”

Keith shakes his head, no.

“Oh,” Lance reaches out his hand, Keith hands him the bowl. He sits on the edge of the bed, eating the last of the berries. “You can understand me though?”

Keith nods.

“Okay then, can I check your bandages?”

He shakes his head, and Lance really shouldn’t think it’s as cute as it is. “Okay then, I’m going to go get more food for you.”

<> >< ><><>< >< <>

It hurts more. It hurts so much more. Keith can’t say anything to him. Only nod or shake his head (Keith has never been good at writing). All Lance wants to do it talk to him. It had been something he had gotten so used to, not even knowing what a luxury it was. And Keith still refuses to let Lance look any further at the cuts, so Lance can only hope that they aren’t infected. Keith probably was afraid of the pain he had felt when Lance stitched him up, so Lance didn’t really blame him for not wanting to feel that again.

After couple of day of taking care of a bed-ridden Keith, Lance decided that he needed to get Keith his own room and bed (because at this rate they won’t be sharing one anytime soon). Lance did have a “spare” room, but he’s always used it for his food storage and pottery. So Lance set it upon himself to convert it into a bedroom.

The room was dark, and much smaller than the main section of the cavern, which is why Lance used if for storage rather than his own private bedroom. His own room was really the entire cave, but his bed rested between two pillars, on looking a constantly stormy sea. He had moved his bed here after the first time Keith left, wanting to be able to see the ocean before falling asleep, hopping, begging to see Keith’s ship return. But the sight of the ocean, after so many goodbyes felt like a reminder of the pain than a reassurance.

Lance spend days next to a sleepy Keith, weaving the base for Keith’s bed, the frame bigger than his own. He did most the talking, but Keith had managed, a few time, to speak a few words, mostly “Lance,” or, “yes.” And the other times Lance wasn’t talking, Keith would try to explain stories by using his hands. Lance didn’t get him most the time, but it was nice to at least feel his presence. 

“I had all the cloth in here, the candles too,” Lance says, weaving the grass tighter, the corners of the base were always the hardest. “I really need to sew you some new clothes, those are so bloody I keep thinking that you’re dying again.”

Keith nods, handing him more strips of grass, trying to help the most he could. “I have a few idea, but I’m sure no matter what i do you’ll prefer those…” Lance sighs.

“You know you can ask for things,” Lance pushes. “and I know you think I’m already doing to much for you. The bed, new clothes… hopefully. food , water-”

“No.” Keith’s voice cracks. ‘S’fine, Lance.”

Lance’s hand shoots to him mouth, holding back a sob. He misses that voice. He misses it so much it hurts.

Everything seems to hurt

<> >< ><><>< >< <>

Keith finds his voice a couple days after Lance finishes his bed. He’s reluctant to switch rooms, there’s something terrifying about not sleeping near Lance. He does though, embarrassment overruling fear. But something deep down inside him says Lance doesn’t want to sleep alone either.

Lance is always last to go to bed, making sure Keith is okay before heading to his own secluded alcove. And even after Lance has left, Keith will sometimes find his awake in the garden, claiming it’s the best time to harvest.

Keith’s memory is still fuzzy, only faint thoughts of the past. Someone laughing, or strong calloused hands grabbing his own. But nothing that would leave him anything to work off of.

The island is alone, or at least that’s what Lance tells him. There’s no islands in sight, even if there were, Keith couldn’t sail to them. No boat. Story seas. Lance almost seems to know what Keith is going to ask him, his answers already prepared.

“Why are you alone? How did you get on this island?” Keith had asked one day, figuring that if there’s a way on, there’s a way off.

“I was born here.”

Keith never pushes it when it comes to Lance’s past. Obviously he has been through something. He wishes that Lance would just tell him, it would make things easier.

<> >< ><><>< >< <>

“I need to bathe,” Keith says one day, mud streaking across his face. Lance looks up from his book, blush blossoms on his cheeks. Keith looks adorable, his lips form a pout, his hair sticks at odd angles. It’s too cute and Lance can’t handle it. He reaches across the table, hands cupping Keith’s face, stroking the mud from his cheeks and under eyes.

“Yeah,” Lance says breathlessly. “You do.”

Keith pushes the hand away, still looking like a grumpy kitty, “I can’t bathe in the ocean, do you can a wash basin?”

“No, but there’s a hot spring a mile from here,” Lance says cleaning up the bowls from the table. “I’ll show you the way after you help with these,” Lance holds up a bowl.

Keith growns but agrees.

After washing all the bowls, and Lance changing into something he can hike in, they set off for the hot spring. Keith really is dirty, his hair looking closer to brown then his raven color. He must have been trying to clean up the garden (a wild boar ran through it, messing up Lance’s carrot patch) but since it rained recently the dirt was all muddy.

The hike is easy, only a half mile to the forest, and even when in the forest the trail was clear and lined with rocks and flower. Keith did struggle, the pain in his chest and legs slowed him down. Lance eagerly offered to help carry him up, Keith refused. So a hike that only took a half hour took almost more than an hour.

The hot spring is a river running below a waterfall, the waterfall isn’t actually the source of the stream, Lance has yet to find time to actually find the source. The water is deep enough to both wade and swim, making is perfect to a bath.

Keith looks so relieved to see water, shucking off his shirt and limping to the water side. And of course this is the exact moment that he realizes he’s screwed. Keith is going to bathe. Naked. Heat rises to Lance’s cheeks. He instantly turns around, fearing for his own sanity. He’s seen Keith shirtless before, he’s seen him naked. But this is different. This Keith doesn’t like him, definitely doesn’t love him, so Lance seeing him in a way that reminds him how much he’s in love? Yeah, no good.

Lance can hear shuffling and a small slash, then, “aren’t you getting in? Why did you turn around?”

Lance’s brain swear up a storm. “I thought i’d give you some privacy.”

“But don’t you need to bathe, you haven’t since I got here,” keith shouts back, getting deeper in the water, “you can turn around, you know.”

So Lance does, trying, and failing, to act as normal as he can. “Ok.” he suecks, spotting Keith. He’s deep enough in the water his waist down is covered, but the water is still sparkling clear. Lance quickly becomes redder than him tomato garden.

“Dude, we’re both guys here, not like you haven’t seen anything like this before.”

Lance fakes a laugh. “Yeah, can you still look away while I uh…”

“Oh yeah sure,” Keith turns a swims toward the waterfall.

Lance sighs with relief, he stips off with pants and shirt. He struggles to get the flowers out of his hair. He steps into the water. It isn’t hot, only a nice warm. He walks in far enough that his waist is underwater, then swimming out to the waterfall to meet Keith.

There are a few fish that live in the water, most die off from the heat. Lance actually doesn’t eat meat, simply because he doesn’t like the taste and texture. Keith on the other hand loves it. He can’t hunt in his current condition, but in the past he would disappear for day on hunting trips.

“Okay, I’m in,” Lanc says quietly, almost hoping he can’t be heard over the waterfall. Keith doesn’t turn, thanks the gods, he simply nods and starts to scrub at the mud that cakes his body.

Lance forces himself to do the same, trying hard not to stare at Keith’s back. He has a nice back, always has. It’s lightly toned with muscles, freckles dot around every once and awhile. The wound had closed up, leaving a lightning shaped scar in its place. Keith is a attractive, there no-

“Ah,” Keith moans and Lance’s head snapps away. The water is nice, very relaxing, Lance doesn’t blame him for… such noises. Lance slowly looks back, immediately regretting it. Keith rakes his blunt nails over the surface of his back, white trails in their wake. Lance’s mind flashes to when he did such things.

And of course remembering these things aren’t currently good for for his mental health. Lance swims away, gets dressed and sits on a rock facing away from the river, giving Keith no explanation.

Lance tries not to think of the pain he’s constantly in. The way he looks at Keith and the way he doesn’t look at him back. The way he knows Keith is just going to leave him. He’s always asking about how to leave, how to get away from Lance.

<> >< ><><>< >< <>

“I can’t sleep,” Keith awkwardly shifts on the balls of his feet, swaying back and forth. “‘S too dark.”

Lance stops pumping his pottery wheel (something Keith once made for him long ago) a looks over to Keith. He’s holding his pillow and blanket tightly. His hair is distraught, and what looks like dried drool is clinging to his cheek. He looks like he was asleep, but Lance doesn’t push it.

“You can sleep on my bed, I’ll use yours.”

“I can’t take your bed.”

“Yes you can, you’re my guest,” Lance starts to bump the wheel again, adding more clay to the vase he’s working on.

“I’ve already eaten your food and water.”

“You need that to live, Keith,” Lance sighs.

“You made me a bed.”

“Which I will use, since you can’t sleep,” Lance huffs.

“But-”

“No butts Keith,” Lance looks up again, Keith’s cheeks are flushed. “I said you can ask for anything. You asked, and I’m giving,” He gestures to the bed. “Go sleep, the sounds of the waves is calming.”

Keith nods and pads away. Lance feels content seeing Keith in his bed, like he belongs there. And honestly, lance thinks he does. In the past Keith had always ended up sleeping with Lance. He had always struggles to sleep alone, and cuddling with Lance always helped. Usually, in the past, he jumped at the chance to me close to lance. But this time, this keith, was hesitant, slow, worried.

Lance misses cuddling, he misses it so much he fears he’ll do something stupid-

“Would you sleep better if i slept next to you?” Lance bites his bite the second he finishes talking. Stupid. Stupid stupid. Stupid.

Keith rolls over, looking at Lance, his eyes wander away before nodding silently.

“Okay, let me go wash up, then I’ll join you,” Lance looks at his vase, it’s not done, not even close. But he really wants to cuddle. He slides it off the wheel and adds the unfinished vase to the pile of clay, he’ll reuse it later. He rushes so wash his hands and dry them.

He turns and looks at Keith, laying in his bed. It’s a sight. Because from where the bed is, lance can see out into the ocean, the waves furious, angry, deadly. Lightning cracks across the sky, but noise ever comes from it. Heavy sheets of rain fall, dripping in thick streams off the cave’s overhang. Then there’s keith. Resting on his side, scars being lit up by lightning. The sheets fall just above the curve of his hips; his hair tosses in the wind. He looks calm in the storm. Calm in the storm he causes.

<> >< ><><>< >< <>

Lance wakes up staring at Keith, he must have turned over in the middle of the night. He’s still asleep, thank goodness he managed to get some sleep. Lance admires the sharp swapping lines of his cheeks, the way his eye lashes rest on them. His lip is a little upturned because of the scar that connects to his nose, it gives him a pouty look somehow. His fring fruitlessly trying to cover his relaxes brows. Lance advocates every ounce of self control he has not to reach out and brush Keith’s hair behind his ear.

Keith is beautiful. Downright gorgeous.

Keith shifts, humming softly, his tongue swipes across his scar. Lance can’t keep it in any longer. He moves forward, wrapping his arms around Keith’s waist, resting his head on top of Keith’s. Lance feels warm and cosy, nestles next to Keith. He closes his eyes, sighing with contentment

A light flashes, visible through his eyelid.

Once.

Twice. Three times.

He opens his eyes, adjusting to the light. He searches the night sky for the culprit. Lightning spiders it’s way across clouds. Cackling with laughter, reaching out with spiney hands, illuminating it’s body hidden behind storm clouds.

The storm rages on, but Keith stays sound asleep.

<> >< ><><>< >< <>

Keith wakes with his face pressing against Lance’s chest. His cheek pushes into his eye, his bangs only making it worse. His arms are tucked in front of him, trapped by lance’s arms. Figures, Lance is a cuddler. Keith sighs, he doesn’t mind. He’s a little touch starved to he feels like he’s on fire. Lance strayed fingers on the small of him back burning into his skin.

He can’t remember ever getting any hugs before landing on this island. He can’t remember any hugs or affection, any touches. He can’t remember any faces. Any home.

Home.

He can’t remember any- “home.” he mutters, forcing his face further into Lance’s chest.

<> >< ><><>< >< <>

Lance feels empty. Hollow. Alone.

Keith wants to leave, there’s no getting around that. Who wouldn’t want to leave the island. There really isn’t much here to do. Pray to the gods. Paint. Potery. Write. Pray more.

Lance finds himself praying to the gods more than ever. He usually only prayed to them when he was alone, yeah know, after Keith would leave him again. But there was something about being this alone, yet still with the person he loves the most in this world, that made him want to shout at the sky.

His prayers had always been begging for Keith back, begging for him to remember him this time. Begging for him to stay.

But now…

“Please, gods,” Lance tears up. “I need- i need you to let him leave, please!” Lance shouts at the sky day after day. Keith isn’t happy here, he never bargained for this pain, “he can’t love me like this, he only wants to go home!”

But the sky, the gods don’t care if Keith suffers, as long as Lance is in pain.

<> >< ><><>< >< <>

Keith can hear the shouting.

The begging for him to leave.

The tears.

<> >< ><><>< >< <>

“I’m leaving,” Keith says, putting a blanket into a backpack, he doesn’t have much to take.

“What!?” Lance exclains, reaching out to take the bag.

“You don’t want me here, I’ve heard you say it, Lance.”

Lance takes a step back, hands on his chest. He heard. He heard him say those things. “No, no no… I want you here,” Lance sniffs, holding back tears as Keith pushes past him and out the door. Lance chases after him. “I need you here, you don’t unders-”

“I don’t understand what, Lance?!” Keith bites, stopping in the middle of the garden, his fists raise defensively. “I understand you been praying to your gods that they will take me. I understand that you’re going through some shit. And I most definitely know you aren’t telling me something important. So what? What don’t I understand?”

“I… I can’t tell you,” tears run down his face. He can’t. He physically can’t. It’s a curse. It’s part of the curse. “But please, I don’t want you to leave, I swear.”

“Then why do you keep begging for me to go?!”

“Because- because… I lo-” Lance’s hands shoot up to his mouth, he can’t pull them away. The stormy seas a reminder of how unmutual the feeling is. Lance sinks to the ground, dirt covering his knees. He tries to speak, he tries to look up. He tries to do anything. But he just sits there, crying, unable to say anything, unable to stop Keith from leaving.

Lance can hear Keith turn. He can hear him walk away. The tears get stronger, louder, more intense. Water fills his eyes, then darkness.

<> >< ><><>< >< <>

Lance feels dirt under him. Leaves sway back and forth around him, grazing his body with small touches. His face is stiff, dry from his wake of tears. The grass his only comforter.

Keith is gone.

The sea is still stormy.

<> >< ><><>< >< <>

Keith stares at the ocean, the waves crashing in brutal thrusts against to the rocky cliff. Seagulls cry above him, searching for a break to find fish. Keith had found what looks like an old lighthouse. It was barely four walls now, the rocks that were used for bricks were worn down from rain and wind. The whole world seemed like a storm from here.

Keith had set up a tent, using the barren walls as wind breakers. It isn’t as cosy or nice as Lance’s cave, but Keith finds it does the job fine.

Since there’s no way off the island, Keith decides that this is his new home, he’ll have to fix the walls, add a roof. Maybe an oven, some storage. He definitely misses the bed Lance made him. The food, the garden. He misses it. But the fight is still loud in his head. Lance refusing to speak. To at least tell him something.

Keith spends the next couple of weeks fixing up his home. Gathering clay from the beach and rocks from the forest to build up the walls, he added another room for storage. He cuts down a couple trees for the roof. It doesn’t look like a lighthouse, it never did. But it’s home.

It takes him a few days to figure out the best way to make an oven (he desperately wants to cook some pig) and shelves. His bed takes a full week to conjure up, it’s smaller than Lance’s, and he has to curl up to fit on it, but it’s better than the floor.

It’s home.

Keith wakes one morning with a headache. It’s harsh, overbearing and keeps him in bed all day. He quickly runs out of water at the rate he’s drinking it. The nearest fresh water (that he’d still need to boil just to be safe) is a mile round trip, but getting up and down the steep rocky trail to and from his home isn’t easy, especially when Keith’s head is making everything spin.

So the headache get worse without the nursing of water. Keith honestly thinks he’s going to die.

Hands

Hands on him.

He turns abruptly, vision turning black for a moment. His head pounds harder. He cant see, he can’t see, he cant-

“Hey, shhh, you look ill, I’ll help,” Lance. It’s Lance. Lance, Lance Lance…

<> >< ><><>< >< <>

Lance didn’t feel good about what he did. He definitely feels guilty.

He found Keith’s home many months ago, he never went close to it, only watched from a distance. Keith left the building at least twice a day. Usually for water. He must have had some water storage to hold the gallons he brought up. But after one afternoon Lance didn’t see Keith leave. He didn’t leave for a few days.

Lance prayed to the gods he wouldn’t be killed if he went up there. And so he found Keith, almost dead nestled in a pile of leaves.

“How much water have to drank in the last two days?” Lance asks rummaging around the small room until he finds what looks like Keith’s water storage. It’s a clay basin, dry to the touch now. Keith groans and tries to speak, “when was the last time you drank?” Keith hisses in pain. “Uhh, hold up fingers for the amount of days.”

Keith struggles to lift his hand, holding up 3 fingers. “Ohmygods- I’m going to get water right now, don’t you die, okay?”

Keith’s eyes droop and close, Lance can’t do anything about it.

Lance runs down the steep hillside, his legs getting cut on sharp rocks. It takes him a decent amount of time to find fresh water,.

By the time he returns his face is covered in mud and his legs are dripping with sweat. He pours the water into the basin, then places it over the fire. He sits next to Keith, who looks like he could die at any minute.

“Lance…” He mumbles, curling into Lance’s side. He strokes Keith’s hair, trying to calm him down. Why didn’t he go and get water? “Please…”

“I know it hurts, but the water needs to be clean.”

It luckily doesn’t take long for the water to boil, Lance lets it cool down before carefully giving it to Keith, who in return chugs it like he’s dying. Which he was. Keith spills most the water because he has a hard time sitting up, so Lance holds him up, Keith falling limp in his arms, so he doesn’t waste any more water.

Lance repeats this several times until Keith has enough water for a week or two. And as much as Lance wants to stay for those two weeks… he should go.

He didn’t bring much in the first place, so leaving should be easy. Keith is asleep when he packs his bag, it’s the middle of the day but Lance somehow knows Keith will be asleep for hours. Hopefully well enough to care for himself. He presses a kiss to Keith’s forehead, whispering a goodbye before turning to walk away.

A hand grabs his.

He turns back to see Keith sitting up, staring down, almost embarrassed, “don’t go.” he looks sad. Genuinely sad. He had looked sad when he left Lance, but this is different. His eyes are droopy, lips shaking, his brows furrowed. He looks lost.

“I really should though…”

“What if I need more water.”

“You have enough for a week or two.”

“Food?”

“I cooked some meat, you would just need to heat it up.”

“What if I get lonely?”

It had been months. Months since they last really saw each other. Of course Keith was lonely. Lance was. Why shouldn’t Keith be too. “I asked you to stay… and you left.” it’s a crappy excuse, it really is. Lance wants to stay. And Keith wants him to stay. So why was he walking out of the house?

He tried not to cry, he was trying to hard. He was in love with Keith and Lance was the one leaving. Is this what Keith felt every time he had to leave, every time he left the island? If e felt like this why didn’t he just turn around. Why didn’t he stay?

<> >< ><><>< >< <>

The sea is calm. The waves slow and rhythmic. Like a blue veil floating in the wind.

<> >< ><><>< >< <>

Lance woke to the smell of strawberries. Sweet and fresh, making him almost dizzy. He had returned home late at night and being unable to sleep he ended up picking every berry he could find. His shelves were now full of strawberries, blackberries, raspberries, blueberries. The smell was calming, almost reassuring.

He rolls over, his cotton sheets wrapping around him. His chest aches, in a lonely way. He left Keith, even after the pain of Keith leaving him. He rolls on to back again, opening his eyes. It takes a minute for the world to come into focus. Seaglass, connected by string, dangles above him in a sort of makeshift wind chime. Keith had make them, many many decapheebs ago. As a going away gift. He has plenty of going away gifts.

That kind of thing tends to happen when the love of your life leaves you. Or when you leave him.

The cave is darker than it usually is, not by much though. Lance had closed the curtain before trying to sleep, not wanting the stormy seas as a constant reminder of Keith’s love. Or the lack of Keith’s love.

He tosses and turns for a couple of minutes before finally willing himself to get up, the pain in his stomach his only dependant. Lance was, by technicalities, immortal. He has been alive for millenia, his only reminder, the constant pain caused by gods alike. He does need to eat and drink, not doing so  won’t kill him, but it will hurt. And up until recently, keith has been the same way. Was Keith mortal? Could he age? Would he die?

Lance munched on several slices of stale bread, he had meant to make more but got caught up in moping around.

Keith wanted him to stay, so why didn’t he stay? There’s no good reason that he left, only that “I asked you to stay.” but that hurt Lance. Why would Lance want to hurt Keith?

Lance picks at his nails for a while, sitting cross legged on a small woven chair. His shawl wraps around his head, shielding his eyes from as much light as possible. He can’t bare to open the curtains. He had made that after a particularly bad night, the storm practically entering the cave. Keith had been scared out of his mind, shivering in a corner, afraid to open his eyes.

There were so many things in Lance’s cave that were made for Keith or made by Keith. Have his bowls and cups. A few of his vases. The curtains, a few rugs.

His life has always involved Keith, whether he was here or not. But now… this is a different kind of gone. Keith is gone on his own accord, leaving because he dislikes Lance, rather than loves.

“Gods, I screwed up…” Lance mutters to himself, not knowing if he’s praying. “It hurts so much more.”

Lance is used to pain, he’s used to being tossed away, rejected, forgotten about. But now… He’s just alone. He’s left Keith. He’s the one who caused his pain. And now, there’s nothing he can do about it.

Lance turns his head to the side, looking out at the thick curtains, shading his eyes from the storm. The cave feels more like a cave than a home like this. The wall cast with shadows, creating sharp jagged lines. No fresh air being pumped in through the open arches. No visible storm lighting the darkest corners of the cave. And despite how cramped the cave usually feels… now it’s empty.

Lance looks toward the only window without a curtain over it. Because how the cave is shaped, one of the walls is made of wood, easier for a door and a few windows. The wall was built around a tree’s trunk, whos branches hold up the roof. Lance isn’t a carpenter, so Keith had helped him make it. It still leaks, Lance has always had to put cups and bowls down when it rained on the island. It adds character, Lance had said, placing down another cup to catch runaway raindrops. Keith pouted and shifted away, I don’t mind at all.

Out the window Lance can see the entire garden, he had planted in with this in mind. He can almost always see the plants from inside the cave, makes it easier to spot deer, rabbits and boar that come for his food.

Something moves.

A figure. Too small to be a deer. Too tall to be a boar.

Keith.

Lance leaps from his chair, bolting to the door. His cheeks are a deep flushed red. “Keith…” he says breathlessly. In the distance Keith stops, putting down a bag.

Lance awkwardly jumps back and forth on the balls of his feet. He wants to run out there and hug him, he wants to so badly. But he doesn’t have to. Because Keith is running to him. He’s fast, probably from all the hunting. He’s far away but Lance can make out a smile. Something he’s barely seen Keith do. He dodges around bushes and hops the fence into Lance’s garden, barely missing a cabbage plant.

Lance doesn’t even realise how close Keith has gotten before they’re nose to nose on the floor. Keith had ran into lance giving him a hug, knocking them to the ground. Lance breaks into laughter, giggling like and idiot. “Hey-” he wheezes out, his chest too compressed to say more. “-can’t breath.”

Keith sits up, straddling his waist. “Sorry,” he slides off. Lacne doesn’t give his a chance to speak, his arms wrap around Keith's neck, pulling his into a hug. “Mmmf-”

“I missed you- you absolute dote.”

Keith laughs into Lance’s shirt, his hands resting on his hips. “M’ too-”

“Nope. no speaking, you’ll ruin the moment!”

Keith escapes Lance’s grasp, “I’ll ruin the moment?” Keith looks into the cave, he’s probably surprised by how dark it is with the curtains drawn. He stands stepping in, Lance watches his him curious eyes.

“Will you stay?” Lance reaches for Keith’s hand, tugging his away from the curtains. Away from the storm. “Please?”

“Of course I’ll stay.”

They hug again. It’s a little awkward. But it’s supposed to be. Because Keith is back. Keith is back.

Lance’s hands slide down to the small of Keith’s back, it’s warm and Lance’s hands fit perfectly by it. Lance quickly decides this in his new home now.

home.

“I thought you wanted to go home. You muttered it in your sleep…” lance say, instantly regretting bringing it up.

“I said home. I meant this is my home,” Keith sighs, “I guess it hurt thinking you wanted to leave. When I thought of this place as my home.”

Lance chokes back a sob. “I’m sorry. Mi casa, es su casa.”

“Yeah, well why are the curtains drawn in mi casa?”

Oh… Lance pulls away from the hug. It’s darker than he thought. “Uhh… I didn’t want to see the storm…”

Keith blinks. Slow. confused. “It stopped raining hours ago.”

<> >< ><><>< >< <>

“Babe~” Lance whines, tugging his face further into Keith’s side. Keith sighs angrily, continuing to try to tug Lance off his chest. “Nuuu…”

“You’re all sandy!!” Keith squeals, still trying to shake Lance off of him. “You’ll get me all- ah! HAHAHA~” Lance jabs his fingers in Keith’s side, laughter bubbles between them.

Lance and keith had walked down to the beach hours ago to cuddles on a blanket and watch the waves. Their picnic had been eaten and the blanket was all sandy. Not to mention it was getting dark.

“I want to go home!! LaNCE?!?!” Keith wheezes in laughter, his heart pounding. “It’s getting dark!”

They had been like this for weeks now. Happy. Giggling. Soft touches. Soft kisses. Soft. soft like the sand that covers their island. Sof like the ocean waves, slow and steady, caused by Keith’s love. Soft like the bed sheets the curl up in together. Soft.

“Nuuu!” Lance says gripping tighter. “If we go back you’ll want to sleep!”

“We can cuddle and sleep.”

“But I’m hungry~”

“Then we eat, then cuddle then sleep.”

Lance lossens his grip, pondering on the compromise. Keith takes this moment of weakness to slip out of his grasp, scrambling to freedom.He gives Lance a knowing smirk and dashes to the cave. “I’ll just go cuddle with a pillow!” he shouts after.

Lance huffs and chases after, his longer legs giving him an advantage. They both reach the cave in a matter of minutes, completely disregarding their picnic. Keith tries to close the door behind him but Lance elbows his way in. they run around the table and chairs, in and out of the storage room. Keith finally lands on the bed, wrapping his limbs around the pillow, just as he promised. Lance sticks his tongue out, sliding on next to him.

Lance pressed the palms of his hands against Keith’s back, he places light kisses between his shoulders. Lightly sucking, marks forming. Keith hums, wiggling his hips back. He releases the pillow, head cocking back, searching for Lance’s lips. Slow groans and gasps fall from his lips. Lance grins and plants more kisses.

“Lance~” Keith whines. He turns his head more, Lance dodges a little more. “Please.”

Lance laughs, lifting himself up, giving Keith room to roll onto his back. Lance then plops himself onto Keith’s chest, sand falling in steady streams from his hair. “Hi.” he presses his lips to Keith’s shoulders, collar bone, neck. Cheeks. Lance blow cold puffs of air onto Keith’s forehead and eyes. He whines, back arching, mouth still searching for Lance’s lips.

Lance finally gives in, wanting to feel Keith’s lips on his, just as much as the other way around. Electricity cracks against his skin, his cheeks heating up. Keith’s hands wander, sliding up Lance’s hand, through his hair, grabbing his ass. Lance yelps, surprised by this action.

They hadn’t talked much about going further. Lance hadn’t put to much thought into it. He didn’t need to. He’s had the talk with Keith in the past. Several times. He knows what Keith is comfortable. He knows what makes him go crazy. What makes his toes curls. But the other way around.

“You’re so pretty,” Keith mumbles against his lips, niping lightly at Lance’s lower lip. “S’pretty.” Lance blushes furiously at the complement. Okay so maybe he knows a little.

Keith is a good kisser, hasn’t always been this good. And Lance doesn’t have much outside experience to go off of. But he knows how much to push and how much to pull, leaving Lance to always search after him. Keith’s tongue flicks across Lance’s lower lip, he gasps, opening up immediately to him. Keith can’t help but laugh at this. “So easy~” Lance scowls at him.

Lance pulls back, speaking quietly in Keith’s ear. “I’m all sandy, I’m going to go shake myself off.” Keith humms in acknowledgement. “Unless you want to help me~”

Keith turns. Giving him a knowing smirk.

<> >< ><><>< >< <>

Lance shakes the last of the sand and water out of his hair. His towel was filthy at this point. Ugh, when is laundry day anyways? Keith steps toward him, pressing a kiss to his lips. Lance can’t help but smile, but he turns, almost ignoring him. “Do you want some food? you hungry?”

Keith nods, “yeah, what are you thinking?”

“I made some dough the other day, you want some bread?”

“Doesn’t that take hours to bake?”

“Mmm… we could cuddle for hours?”

“Mmmm yeah…”

Lance giggles, he actually giggles. “Or we could make out.”

“That sounds nice, mr. breadman.”

“I’m going to start that then, you go…” Lance looks him up and down. “Put some clothes on~” Keith snorts, suddenly more aware of how naked he actually is. Keith awkwardly walks away, fruitlessly trying to cover himself up.

Keith didn’t have many clothes, although Lance had made and lend several outfits. A  few plain pairs of pants. A decent amount of shirts. A belt. Straw hat. Some sandals. And a single pair of pajamas. Keith refused most the clothes Lance had already owned, they were mostly too small or too… lance. Lance had a very simple yet elegant style. His garments glowing in the wind, but still fitting perfectly to his lean build. He looks like a god.

Keith smirks, grabbing a pair of Lance’s pants and loose tunic, he smiles at the way it fits him. “Hey, are these too small?”

Lance turns, cheeks flushing. “Uhhhhh, no?” He stares for a while. “So cuddling?”

Keith snorts, “yeah.”

They pile between dozens of pillows and fluffy blankets, laughing and poking at each other. They always seem to end up in tickle fights, Lance always loses. Keith plants a kiss on Lance’s forehead.

“When did you know you liked boys?”

Lance’s eyes gloss over. “A boy…” he starts. “Ended up on the island. And i just fell for him.” Lance doesn’t continue, and Keith doesn’t ask any more.

“Sounds like you have a thing for washed up castaways,” Keith laughs, poking at Lance’s chest.

“Yeah. I definitely do.”

<> >< ><><>< >< <>

“Okay, first one to the hot spring wins?”

“No, Lance.”

“But we haven’t done anything in dayyss!” Lance pouts, crossing his legs. There’s an assortment of thread and cloth between them. Their bed sheets had wripped a couple days ago. Nothing sexy was going on. Keith had been trying to get out of bed but his clingy boy friend had ended up pulling on him and the bed too hard.

“We haven’t done anything in days because you haven’t wanted to get out of beg for days,” Keith rebutes, failing at weaving.

“But doesn’t going for a swim sound like fun?”

“But doesn’t making new bed sheets that you ripped sound like fun,” keith says in a mocking tone.

“No. no it does not.”

“Well we have to do it anyways, besides, it’ll be good practice for when we make the sail,” Keith ties another knot, tugging it sharply.

“The… sail?” Lance says, quieter than before.

“For the boat.”

“The boat?”

“Well we’re eventually going to build one,” Keith looks up from his jumbled mess. “Do you not think so.”

Keith wants to leave. Of course he does. That’s what happens. Keith falls in love, the storm stops, he leaves.

“I… I can’t.”

“You can’t build a boat? You’ll do fine don’t-”

“No, I can’t leave,” Lance can feel the tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

“Woah, woah-” Keith drops his fabric, rushing forward to kneel before Lance. He grabs his hands, thumb moving in a calm circle. “You can’t leave- for whatever reason- then we stay.”

“W-we?”

“Do you… not want me to stay?”

“No no I do, of course I do,” Lance tears up. “You just said we. as in both of us. Together.”

“Well I’d kinda like to stay together with you so…”

Lance hiccups, smiling like an idiot now. Keith shifts off his knees, crouching just tall enough to kiss Lance. It reminds him of their first kiss. A little wet, because Lance cries all the time and it will never bother keith. It’s slow, soft and a little fearful. Like they’re afraid of going to far with just a simple kiss.

“I’m never going to go somewhere without you, okay?” Keith presses a kiss to Lance’s nose. “Where you go, I go. Where you stay. I stay.”

Lance hiccups again. “So does that mean if I go down to the hot spring, you’ll come with me?”

Keith will have had an emotion change so quickly than in that moment.

<> >< ><><>< >< <>

Keith stares at the pottery wheel. He blinks a couple times, moves, then continues to stare. He looks conflicted, or at least very deep in thought. His brows furrowed, eyes squinted, his lip under tooth. And Lance watches him, encircling the pottery wheel, thumb stroking his chin.

“Babe?” he inquires. “If you want I can teach you how to use it.”

Keith shakes his head, he then squeezes his eyes shut. Opens them and continues to circle the wheel.

Lance just watches, completely confused. “Is it broken?” Keith shakes his head. “Is it… do you not like it or…” Keith shakes his head.

He opens his mouth, probably to speak, then closes it. He hums, circling it one more time then, “I made this?”

Lance’s eyes grow wide, stricken with shock… and a little fear. “I uh…”

“When did I do that?”

“You…”

“I remember making it, and then when i showed it to you… you kissed me,” keith scratches his head, looking up at Lance who is frozen to the spot. Does he remember? Are his past memories coming back?

“You- I…”

“So that means I made it in the last few weeks… but I remember you using it before we got together…” Keith crouches down, inspecting it further. “Am I going crazy?”

Lance manages to shake his head, “no.”

“But that’s impossible…” Keith looks back to Lance again. “When did I make this?”

Lance’s hands shoot to his mouth. He can’t say. He can’t help. “You said there was a boy, you fell in love with him… before,” Keith says stepping forward to hold Lance’s shoulders. “Have I been here before?” a little closer. Just say it. Just say it- “I’ve been here before.”

Lance removes his hands, nodding, “yes.” he shakes from excitement. “You said it, I can talk now.” Keith looks confused. “You were here before, but I am- I was cursed to never be able to tell you. But you figured it out, I can tell you everything now.”

<> >< ><><>< >< <>

“So I’ve been here… a lot?” Keith says staring at his hands. They’re been talking for hours, well… Lance has been talking for hours, Keith didn’t know what to say. Lance explained the curse, and how Keith had left him every time. And how Lance can never leave the island. Lance talks about how the storm is caused but Keith not being in love with Lance, and how it stop only when Keith is in  love with him, making it easier to leave. They went back and forth from crying and holding each other for comfort, to smiling like idiots i love. “I’m immortal? But I almost died.”

“I know, and I don’t really understand why.”

“Wow, this is… a lot to process…”

“I really wish I could have told you but-” Lance brings his hands to his mouth, mimicking the action that stopped him every time. “I couldn’t. I’m sorry if you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad at you for not telling me. You couldn’t,” Keith crosses his arms. “I’m mad that… why are you- why are we cursed to do this?”

“I didn’t…” Lance sighs. Of course this question was going to come up. It was bound to. “I angered the gods… a lot.”

“How?”

“I might have done it with one of Hera’s priests…” Lance avoids eye contact.

“Then why am I-” Keith blinks. “Oh…” He cheeks heat up. “Heh.” They awkwardly stare at each other for a while. “So then you lied?”

“Lied about what?”

“You said you knew you liked boys when I washed up on shore, but clearly you liked boys before that.”

“Oh yeah… I was trying to drop a hint at you,” Lance shrugs. “So you could possibly figure out that you had been here before.”

“I still can’t believe this…”

“I know it’s hard.”

“I can’t believe I ever had sex with as a priest!”

Lance grabs his own chest, reeling back. “Rude!”

“I was a priest, for a god, why would I blow that to-” Keith stares at Lanec for a moment. “Okay nevermind, it makes complete sense.”

Lance blushes. Fiercely. “Trust me. It took me months for you to even notice me.”

“Were you a priest?”

“No, I’m a demigod. My dad is Atlas, yet another reason to cast me from Mt. Olympus,” Lance sighs.

“He’s the dude who holds up the sky? Right?” Keith says and Lance nods. “Isn’t he a hero?”

“No, he’s cursed to have to do that forever, he wasn’t a great guy.”

“Wow the gods sure like cursing people.”

“You should see my friend Hunk, he’s a satyr,” Lance laughs.

“He was turned into a satyr!?!” Keith says, shocked.

Lance laughs again. “No, no, he’s been curse to be an assistant to a demigod named Pidge. And She’s terrifying.” Keith laughs.

“So… do you think we’ll ever leave?” he asks, nervously fidgeting with his shirt. “The island… that is.”

“I don’t know…” Lance reaches for Keith’s hand. “Especially with you suddenly being able to die…”

“Yeah…” Keith leans forward, planting a kiss on Lance’s lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

<> >< ><><>< >< <>

Lance is sleeping on his chest, shirtless, the blankets falling just above his waist. Keith is sitting crossed legged next to him. He  traces shapes in Lance’s back. Small circles, plants, mostly flowers. He traces the faint outlines of muscles, small scars. He draws hearts and bubbles, waves and words. He honestly thinks he could do this for hours. Lance had fallen asleep minutes earlier, his sleepy babbling music to Keith’s ears. He’s always been a talker. Always ready to tell Keith everything. Everything about his past. The island. Weird things he saw today. Keith falls in love with him everytime he opens his mouth.

“I love you,” he whispers, tracing a large heart over Lance’s shoulder. “I love you so much it actually hurt.” smaller hearts. “Seriously, my jaw hurts at the end of the day from all the smiling. My lips are sore just giving you all the kisses you deserve. My eyes are tired and droopy from staring at you all day.” Keith smiles. “I love you so freaking much.”

Lance shifts his head to the side, eyes opening to catch Keith’s stare. “Wow,” He mumbles, drunk on sleepiness. “That’s cheesy.”

“Shut up,” Keith pushes at him. “I didn’t think you would hear it.”

“You underestimate how much I want to hear ever think you have to say~”

Keith blushes, covering his face with the back of his hand in a fruitless attempt to hide his embarrassment. “Don’t say things like that.” Keith looks away, not wanting to make eye contact.

Lance sits up, hands reaching out to cup Keith’s face, he kisses his nose. “I love you so much,” He places another kiss on Keith’s lips. “My entire life is about how much I love you.  The sky is blue because of you,” Lance snorts. “Sorry, that rhymes. Right, back to my poetry. I would rather live a couple day on this island with you, than eternity with anyone else.”

“You are spending eternity with me, Lance.”

“And I will do such, happily. I love you.”

Keith laughs, leaning forward to kiss Lance. “I love you too.”

<> >< ><><>< >< <>

The sea is calm. The waves slow and rhythmic. Like a blue veil floating in the wind.

<> >< ><><>< >< <>

**Author's Note:**

> Would anyone be interested in a sequel or prequel? Just let me know in the comments \\( >o< )/
> 
> Edit: So I’m writing a sequel/prequel. You all can get excited!!! What would you guys want to see from it? More hunk and Pidge? Pure fluff? Keith and Lance starting a family? Headcanons?


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